


The Night Before Hogswatch

by Astronut



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hogswatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronut/pseuds/Astronut
Summary: Twas the night before Hogwatch and Angua is on patrol.   Carrot/Angua fluff





	The Night Before Hogswatch

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers for the Watch books, Going Postal, and Hogfather. 
> 
> For Inyri. 
> 
> Please do not repost without permission.

The Night Before Hogswatch

It was the night before Hogswatch and all of Ankh-Morpork was stirring. Silent, peaceful Hogswatch Nights were for other towns, where quaint villagers slept soundly with their only worry about presents consisting of rather or not tiny Suzy’s stomach ulcer could handle the orange in her stocking. But in a city where giving citrus was considered an affront to the industrial culture, a violation of the fat and protein traditions of the Hogfather, and above all, Just Not Done, there was a considerable amount of stirring. 

One of the many laws of physics that govern the working of the Disc is that people in general will never get things done early. Why buy Hogswatch gifts early when you could do it at the last minute? Of course, another of the Disc’s laws of physics also applies; for every last minute gift, there will be last minute shopping, which means there must be last minute crime*. 

_*Although crime in Ankh-Morpork can never be considered last minute as schedules are made months in advance. The Thieves Guild always assigns Hogswatch Night shifts to volunteers and those of low seniority. After all, thieves have families to spend Hogswatch with, too. _

In order to protect the wallets of last minute shoppers so that they could be better plundered by the entrepreneurs of Ankh-Morpork and to quell the many riots over the last bottle of Tinyhammer’s Eau de Lolly and the last strips of premium grade bacon, the Watch was out in full force.* Unlike thieves, coppers don’t have families to go home to, so they spent the night proceeding up and down Ankh-Morpork’s shopping districts, trying to fool people into thinking that punching that irritating S.O.B. who keeps screaming notes into his Gooseberry while in line at the checkout counter would actually be more trouble than it was worth.

_*Meaning that Commander Vimes had granted permission for Detritus to use the Piecemaker on any particularly rabid mob and on anyone attempting to purchase BS Johnson’s latest endeavors. _

Surprisingly little trouble actually occurred as most agitators knew it was particularly unwise to give Commander Vimes any reason at all to miss Hogswatch Night with his family. No one, not even the most harden criminal, wanted to face the resulting wrath of Lady Sybil. But Ankh-Morpork being Ankh-Morpork, there had to be trouble somewhere in the city. Of course, trouble came in many forms, some of them more deadly than others. Currently, Sergeant Angua of the Watch found herself fighting down the deadly urge to rip out the throat of a stooped little old lady. An incredibly persistent little old lady, which is always trouble*. 

_*Most little old ladies are incredibly persistent. It is rumored that the Patrician has a special waiting line for elderly women seeking an audience. It consists of a moat filled with alligators, a ten-mile trek through maze-like corridors, and a visit through the Palace Guard target range. Despite this, the queue outside his office door still wraps around the Palace twice, consisting mostly of grey haired ladies still looking as prim and proper as the week they arrived. However, it is hypothesized that the number of little old ladies seeking audience is grossly exaggerated due to the absence of any women of marriageable age. Their line leads directly to the scorpion pits. _

Trying not to stare hungrily at the chicken-skin neck that wobbled as the woman warbled out her complaints, Angua took a deep attempted to reassure the elderly lady one more time. “Ma’am, I’m sure that Mr. von Lipwig did not steal your package.” 

“But I know my Timmy sent me my treacle tart. He always sends me treacle tart for Hogswatch. His wife makes if for me special. With real Uberwald Fifth Elephant Treacle.” Wide eyes enlarged by wider spectacles blinked rapidly as if fighting off tears. 

“I’m sure he does, Mrs. Lubberloft, but I doubt that Mr. von Lipwig or any of his carriers took it,” Angua replied, trying to maintain what little control over her inner wolf she had at the moment. Canines had a long enduring feud with the men who violated their territory on a daily basis simply to bring unwanted notices of unpaid bills and slips for five percent off Dibbler’s nine pence pies. Surrounded by their presence, Angua found it all she could do to fight urge to have a bit of bony, hairy leg for supper. 

“But it should be here by now,” the elderly woman ploughed along. “He sent it out on the coach Tuesday! Put little stamps on it to give to Gertie down the road and everything!” 

The gold bedecked gentleman standing next to Angua responded with a warm, welcoming tone that could have rivaled Carrot on his off days and said, “Today, is Wednesday, Mrs. Lubberloft. While we pride ourselves on prompt service, we can only make the coaches go so fast.” The man’s expression suggested that he felt it as a personal affront that coaches should be able to go only so fast without breaking apart into a million matchsticks. 

Mrs. Lubberloft considered this for a moment and then promptly forgot it. Opening her mouth to continue, she shut it with an annoyed frown as a skinny young man in a rumpled uniform ran up, heaving heavily. 

“Postmastersir….” He tugged on the gold sleeve of his superior’s uniform, hanging there more firmly than any Hogswatch ornament as he fought to regain his breath. “Justcameinoffthecoach…” He held out a rather battered looking box, held together with bits of string in a way that defied most of the laws of gravity and all laws of matter. 

“My package! Oh, my Timmy remembered me!” Mrs. Lubberloft tore the package from the clerk’s grip with speed that belayed her age. Gazing fondly at the blue-tinged young man, she patted his cheek. “My, what prompt service. Here’s tupence for your trouble, dear.” 

The young clerk collapsed to the street, tupence in hand, as Mrs. Lubberloft strode away into the Hogswatch crowd. The man dressed in gold looked down at his young clerk and than turned to the watchman standing beside him. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant. I apologize for that. The general public should be aware by now that we employ only the most trustworthy individual to carry the mails. But alas, things like this do happen from time to time.” 

Angua snorted. “Yes, it’s so hard to understand why no one completely trusts the mail, Mr. _von_ _Lipwig_.” She had long ago matched the man’s scent with that of a certain charismatic conman she had helped track not long ago. Fortunately, that conman was dead, otherwise Angua might have felt the urge to report his existence to Vimes, in which case there would be considerably more dead bodies; hers, Lipwig’s, the faulty hangman’s, and quite possibly the Patrician’s*. 

_*The many spats between the Patrician and the Commander of the Watch provide entertainment for any parts of the city not caught between the two of them. Bookies had considered running a pool on who would win in the evitable physical confrontation, but decided against it. Neither Vimes nor Ventinari would find such a pool amusing and while bookies enjoy breaking legs, they preferred them to be someone else’s._

Lipwig’s face remained contorted in a benevolent grin, but Angua could smell the slight scent of fear that he radiated and knew she had hit her target. “Indeed, Sergeant. Yet they entrust us with their valuables nonetheless. And it’s our job to see that trust through.” 

She nodded, too tired to continue the game. “Just as it’s my job to investigate unlicensed thefts, no matter what crazy old biddy reports them.” 

“Even on Hogswatch Night,” he said, his mask finally dropping to reveal a commiserating expression. 

Angua’s thoughts drifted over the idealic painting outside the Post Office depicting the ideal Hogswatch and then veered sharply towards her own cold, empty apartment. She sighed. “Even on Hogswatch Night.” 

Lipwig brightened noticeably, his mask back in place. “In that case, may I present you with a little something for your troubles? A Hogswatch gift?” 

By direct Vimes decree, watchmen could only accept food, beer, and other bits of grease that kept the cogs and wheels of Ankh-Morpork rolling. Suspicious, Angua gingerly accepted the small booklet he handed her. “Stamps?” 

“Yes, our new line, fresh off the presses. Famous Personages in Ankh-Morpork’s History. One stamp good for anywhere, as far off as Überwald.” While the postmaster looked pleased with this development, Angua could smell his worry. 

She looked down at the familiar stern jaw line, aquiline nose, and shock of red hair carefully printed on the small squares next to a darker, more dangerous looking man. “King Coriline the Red and General Tacticus?”

“Yes, the next book will be of Lorenzo the Kind and Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes. We had planned for something a little more recent, but after the fiasco with the Ventinari stamps…”

They winced as one. Commander Vimes would go postal, complete with real post office and postmaster. 

A smile pulled at Angua’s face, the sort of smile you see on someone standing safely back expecting a good show of fireworks in a highly flammable area. “You wanted something a bit safer.” 

“Yes. Fortunately, the two Stonefaces are similar enough the proof was easily altered.” 

“Very fortunate.” Angua grinned at him as she tipped her helmet to him. “Happy Hogswatch, Postmaster Moist.” 

He returned her grin with a genuine one of his own. “Happy Hogswatch, Sergeant Angua.” Fluidly, he reentered the crowd surrounding the Post Office, shaking hands and offering charming greetings that assured the good will and continuing patience of the customers for at least the next few minutes. 

Angua mentally pinched her nose and waded into the shopping masses herself. Thankfully, her shift had meandered towards its dreary end and she could soon take a shower to relieve her overwhelmed sinuses. Fighting her way back towards the Watch house took little effort as most men stopped and stared at her long enough for her to slip by easily. 

Upon entering the Pseudopolis Yard Watch House, Angua found Sergeant Cheery standing behind the duty desk, her beard looking unusually frazzled. 

“Long day?” Angua asked as she signed in.

“The longest. Petty thefts, fighting, a gnoll caught breaking into houses to steal Hogswatch decorations, and at least ten kids who lost their parents in the crowds. You should see the paperwork. I’m beginning to regret volunteering to work tomorrow. I could use the day off to condition my beard.” 

Angua nodded sympathetically. Dwarves didn’t celebrate Hogswatch and so most of the Hogswatch shift was dwarvish in size and nature but given that paid holidays were rare, some dwarves in the Watch were seriously considering re-evaluating the value of Hogswatch*. 

_*The only present dwarves could figure out to give other dwarves was gold. A Grag had attempted to set a standard gift value but the idea had not gone over well. Too many dwarves wanted to receive large amounts but give smaller. This led to a rather vicious cycle involving sharp axes. _

“Carrot in yet?” Angua asked. 

“No, he’s still on patrol.” 

Wishing Cheery a good night, Angua dragged herself down to the locker rooms were she pretended to be caught in a downpour as she gave herself a shower. Now smelling of flee shampoo instead of the cloying scent of a hundred annoyed humans, she made her way back to the apartment she rented from Mrs. Cake. 

Her small first floor apartment looked depressingly bare of Hogswatch decorations. She had never felt the need to put up pink, round pigs or jolly fat men like everyone else*. Her parents had strongly discouraged her from celebrating such a crude, human custom. She had never attended a Hogswatch dinner nor had she ever eagerly awaited the arrival of the Hogfather. Vimes and Lady Sybil had invited her to dinner one year, but Angua had politely declined, citing the desire celebrate in her own way. But in defiance of her parents, Angua had always followed one custom of Hogswatch. With her earnings, she had bought gifts for her friends and sent the annual package of squeaky toys to her parents that she knew they would throw out. 

_*As a vegetarian most of the month, Hogswatch decorations made her disturbingly hungry. It was best to avoid temptation when she could. _

Usually, she also purchased a gift for herself, but this year she had forgotten. Last year’s present to herself sat in her basket and the sight of it saddened her. Strolling through a toy store that had been robbed, she had spotted a small stuffed doll that had amused her greatly. Days later, she purchased it and had slept with it whenever she wasn’t sleeping beside Carrot. That had been months ago, before Sally joined the Watch. 

Sally was a vampire, cursed with eternal youthfulness and the ability to make everyone, especially werewolves, feel like an inferior species. Carrot, as he did with all new recruits, immediately took her under his expansive wing and began to, as he called it, Show Her the Badges. 

This had bothered Angua. Generally, it was because Sally was a vampire and Angua was a werewolf. Specifically, it was because she had caught Sally gazing lustily* at Carrot. When Angua had finally broached the subject, Carrot had refused to give Sally’s training over to Sergeant Colon or Sergeant Detritus. It wasn’t that he no longer loved Angua, he just couldn’t see why Sally’s training was any of Angua’s business. As a result of this argument and particular bothersome full-moon, Angua’s stuffed doll was missing its head. 

_*Vampires, unlike werewolves and other warm-blooded females, don’t drool, even over gorgeous, gods-like men like Carrot. Another reason vampires should all be staked and hung out in the sun. _

Angua picked up the doll and fell back onto her lumpy mattress. In other circumstances, the headless doll would have been amusing. Yet another upstart king beheaded by an angry watchman, but Angua missed seeing its shock of red-dyed wool hair and perpetual wide, innocent grin. More importantly, she missed the real Carrot’s grin. 

She saw less and less of Carrot these days. The fight hadn’t helped and Sally’s constant presence really hadn’t helped, but those weren’t really the problem. Carrot had changed. He still didn’t understand why he couldn’t hire a seamstress

to darn his socks, but he no longer faced the world with a baby’s eyes. He had gone from being the rookie on the Watch to being Vimes’ second in command. Carrot had long admired Vimes, learning all he could, and some days, Angua even suspected that a little Vimes ran around in Carrot’s head, silenced only by the even smaller axe-welding dwarf that she knew did run around in his head. What ever it was, Carrot was now a Busy Man with Many Important Responsibilities and very little time for his favorite werewolf. 

A head-pounding knock came from the door, jerking Angua out of bed. Usually Mrs. Cake warned her of visitors long before the visitor ever considered visiting. She went to the door, not bother to grab her sword. In the mood she was in, her teeth would be more than enough to deal with whatever barbarian horde that may be knocking. 

She opened the door to reveal not a horde, nor even a barbarian, but a smiling Carrot. Guiltily, she hid the headless doll behind her back as he entered the room but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Happy Hogswatch,” he said, struggling slightly with the unfamiliar greeting. 

“Happy Hogswatch,” she replied with a reluctant smile. Being a tall but traditional dwarf, Carrot didn’t celebrate Hogswatch so it pleased her that he was trying. In their long relationship had never even exchanged Hogswatch gifts, let alone Hogswatch greetings. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you a package.” He was obviously struggling with the idea, but he ploughed on with his usual aplomb. “It’s a Hogswatch gift. I bought it to show you but Commander Vimes told me I had to wrap it so you couldn’t see.” 

Stunned and speechless, Angua tucked the headless doll discretely under her belt and accepted the box, beautifully wrapped in golden foil. “But…oh…But Carrot, I don’t have anything for you.” 

“That’s okay,” he replied with pride, “it is the Thought That Counts.” His face abruptly fell like a boulder. “That is, I hope you still think fondly of me.” 

Angua felt a warm, squirming feeling in her chest like she had just drank some of Dibbler’s special hot chocolate. “Of course I do. You know that.” 

“Then open it,” Carrot said, his grin returning. 

Carefully, Angua picked apart the bow and gently un-wrapped the gold foil*. 

_*Knowing a dwarf like Carrot, Angua suspected the foil was hammered out of real gold. _

Inside, two sets of tiny, painted eyes looked back at her. “Oh, Carrot. I love them.” The eyes were painted on two dolls, one identical to the one she had purchased last year, the other a soft, squishy version of herself*. 

_*Or as close as the doll maker could come. Dried cabbage stuffing didn’t come cheap, so he had left a few inches off the chest to keep the price down. _

“I found one at the toy store. The other I had Mr. Geppetto make. I also gave him permission to make more as he seemed to think it would Bring Happiness to Hundreds of children and himself. He even stitched the dolls hands together For Free. This way we can be together even on the nights of the full moon. In a way.” 

So overwhelmed by the gift, Angua wasn’t even annoyed by the though of people cuddling with a small version of herself. “Oh, Carrot. It’s a wonderful gift. I love it.” 

“And I love you,” he replied, pecking her chastely on her cheek. 

She looked up at him, meeting his sincere eyes. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get you anything.” Coyly, she added, “Perhaps the Hogfather will leave you something. You’d better stick around to see.” 

The bedsprings went ‘glink’ as the headless doll went soaring out the open window, making a soft ‘splat’ in the slush-filled streets. The Unseen University’s clock tolled its sound deafening chimes as it struck midnight. Between the silence-filled strokes, in a small, undecorated apartment, two breathless voices could be heard. 

“Happy Hogswatch, Carrot.” 

“Happy Hogswatch, Angua.” 


End file.
